Friday, 14 February 2014

On the nature of love

I can't sing. I love to but, as I often find amusement in pointing out, the more fun I'm having, the less fun my audience has. 

I love to dance. I have good rhythm, I have reasonable co-ordination and I'm not embarrassed to really go for it. This means people often are convinced by the sheer force of my attitude that I'm a good dancer. I'm not going to disabuse them of that notion.

My future man must - MUST - be willing to take me to karaoke. He must - MUST - be willing to get on a dance floor, because I won't sexy dance unless I'm comfortable being sexy with my partner, and sexy dance is fun.

He may not enjoy listening to my appalling caterwauling, and he may not be a fan of dancing himself, but I know this one absolute fact: any man who is interested in my happiness would consider that a small price to pay for the sheer overwhelming joy I get from these two things. 

This is something it took me a long time to understand. I don't need permission from a man to be happy in those things, but to have the closest person in my life refuse to participate in something that brings me so much joy throws up an unnecessary and crippling barrier. 

Not the most cheerful comment for a Valentine's day special, but you know what? That's OK. It's true and it's more real than a candy heart.

Here is something to make up for it: If a man does not like dancing, but will get on the floor and move through a clumsy slow dance with you because you do and it makes you happy; he is giving you a gift far more precious than a man who loves to dance getting on the floor and hauling you through a perfect rumba.

And since this is the internet and someone will misinterpret - I'm not saying I want my men to be unhappy to prove that they love me. When you love someone, you will do something that you would ordinarily hate because you know it makes them happy. And if you really love them, you won't tally it up on some sort of point scoring system. You'll just do it and it won't be a big deal to you.

But it will to them. Because they'll know and they'll know what it means.


As I wrote that last sentence, tears welled in my eyes and I found myself wishing I loved someone like that. I don't right now. I will, but I don't right now. And that makes me feel lonely.

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